yesterday we had the first ever intra-departmental mancala tournament…and who says editors never have any fun??? the combination of some new blood in editorial (people i like! a lot!) and an article someone was writing on mancala prompted this historic event.
and, folks, you’ll be pleased to know that after many intense rounds, that i – yes, yours truly – am the official mancala champion of the third floor. and i won me an Uncle John’s bathroom reader. so, yay for me.
unfortunately though, the satisfaction of winning still doesn’t make up for the fact that apparently people out there think i’ve been lying about how much i weigh, my scale must be broken, and i’m obviously…well, fat (you will have to scroll down to see the nastiness in all its glory). this one hurt. and it hurt deep. and i have to say, it has really opened my eyes. i can finally understand why there are so many anorexic, bulimic, herion-addicted, cigarette-smoking, and/or alcoholic celebrities. i would hardly consider myself a celebrity…but i guess whenever you put yourself out there in the public eye…there are always going to be rude, obnoxious, hateful, hurtful people. luckily for me, i’ve only got one. but real celebs have many. tens. hundreds possibly.
and you can’t win, right. either you make the cover of US magazine because you are too fat or because you are too anorexic or because you marry some crazy guy who jumps on couches and converts you to scientology and doesn’t let you talk or because you go nutty and start whacking baseball bats at cars and shave your head. Celebs just can’t win, can they?
and ever so coincidentally, thanks to a few lovely internets, like her and her, i found out that today just happens to be:
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